Page 33 of My Spanish Love Affair

“I had a great time tonight,” he says when we reach the passenger side door.

His voice is lower. Softer. Almost as though the night has coaxed out a different side of him.

“Me too,” I admit, my own voice quieter than usual.

The moment stretches between us as his gaze finds mine, and for a heartbeat, everything stops.

There’s a warmth in his green eyes, something unguarded and searching that makes my breath hitch and my pulse races as my gaze flickers to his lips.

His tongue dashes out to wet them, and I wonder if he’s going to lean in, if this is the moment where the night tilts toward something more. My heart thunders in my chest as his fingers graze the car door, but instead of moving closer, he breaks the spell with a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

He steps back, opening the door for me with a smile that feels both charming and restrained.

“Let’s get you home,” he says, his tone light again, as if the tension between us hadn’t been there.

Stunned into silence by the abrupt change in atmosphere, I slide into the passenger seat, the cool leather grounding me. My chest feels tight - like I’m holding onto something that’s already slipping away - but I let it go.

The drive back to my apartment is quiet, save for the low hum of the engine. Santi glances over at me a few times, his expression unreadable, and as I watch the city pass us by, I wonder what he’s thinking.

We pull up to my apartment building and the night feels charged. It's the kind of quiet that amplifies every sound: the click of the car door, the soft echo of our footsteps against the stone stairs.

Santi insists on walking me up to my apartment on the third floor, and I don’t argue, though my stomach drops and my heart races impossibly faster with every step.

I turn to thank him when we reach my door, but the words get caught in my throat as he steps closer. I have to tilt my head back in order to maintain eye contact with him, and his green eyes search mine in question.

Before I can overthink it, his warm, tanned hand brushes my cheek, his fingers feather-light against my skin.

“I had a great time tonight, Olivia” he says softly, his voice like a warm breeze as he repeats his words from earlier.

I lean in to his touch even as my breath hitches. “Me too,” I whisper.

For a second, I wonder whether he’ll leave me hanging like he did before.

But then he leans in, his lips capturing mine.

The kiss is slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. After a beat or two, my hands instinctively raise to find purchase on his broad shoulders, using his muscular form to steady myself as the world seems to tilt slightly. His touch is firm but gentle as his hands move down to my waist, his warmth chasing away the coolness of the air-conditioned hallway.

When we finally pull apart, I’m breathless.

He smiles, his forehead resting briefly against mine.

“I should -” I start, but he cuts me off with another kiss.

I have to consciously stop myself from chasing his lips when he pulls back.

“Wait,” he says, his voice low as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. “Your number.”

Oh.

That must be a good sign - right?!

I bite down on my lip to hold back my triumphant smile as I take his phone and type it in before handing it back.

“There. Now you can stalk me properly,” I comment.

He chuckles, slipping his phone away. “I’ll save it for emergencies. Like when I need recommendations for more places to take you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say. “I should probably go, though. Thank you again for such a lovely evening.”

---